


Bringing You Happiness

by morthael



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Smut, but it's shameless smut nonetheless, i don't know what i'm tagging anymore, my fluff and angst all meld into each other anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:38:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morthael/pseuds/morthael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three ways that Nagisa Kaworu manages to make Shinji happy. A fic in three parts, spanning the three canons, shameless smut involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 庵

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: this fic contains smut, read at your own discretion.
> 
> This is basically the realisation of my Kawoshin headcanon thoughts, which can be found [here](http://ithinkiwasborntomeetyou.tumblr.com/post/50728844864/kawoshin-headcanons). My first smut, I'm kind of freaked out but excited, which is always great. ~~Great, I am literally Shinji.~~

Shinji wonders what he’s doing.

It’s very early morning, or very late night, judging by the glowing red digits propped upon the nightstand, and he should have been asleep hours ago. Instead, he’s staring up at the ceiling, feeling tired and sleepy, but whenever he closes his eyes it feels like more of an effort than to keep them open. A soft mountain of hair brushes against his shoulder, and the inhale-exhale of Kaworu’s breath sends warm air against his bare arm.

Sometime in the night, while Shinji was still drifting in and out of consciousness, Kaworu had slipped out of the bed and joined him on the pallet, curling up by his side. He’s a warm presence now, his breathing compellingly even, and even if Shinji is slightly uncomfortable with the proximity he’s too tired to move, his limbs dead wood and Kaworu a fresh growth of moss.

It’s the third...no, the fourth night that Shinji has stayed here, feeling in his gut that he must return – yet every night, running back every bit the coward that he is. Kaworu, though, Kaworu welcomes him with open arms every time, sometimes literally, and always has an open ear and hot dinner ready for him.

(Sometimes, though, Shinji helps him with the dinner because really, Kaworu is almost as hopeless as Misato.)

It’s colder than usual this night, and so when Shinji woke, he didn’t protest overmuch of the body pressed to his side, instead throwing his sheets over the both of them.

He doesn’t know about that decision now, because Kaworu’s first unconscious decision was to throw an arm across his stomach and snuggle closer.

Shinji yawns, his jaw creaking with the effort, but his teeth click together hard when his shirt rides up and Kaworu’s arm slips onto bare skin. He’s holding his breath, he knows, and it’s going to expel forcefully any second now, but Kaworu’s _arm_ is on his _stomach_ , and he _knows_ it’s stupid but he feels vulnerable, naked. No one’s ever touched him skin to skin this softly, this gently, this innocently, and he can feel his body heat transferring across the point of contact, warming Kaworu’s pale skin.

Then, he feels himself stir, and bites back on a groan, almost hissing aloud at his bad timing.

A flush infuses Shinji’s cheeks and he curses at himself mentally, all thoughts of sleep chased away by a growing need, the corners of the room starkly highlighted with a new hypersensitivity. His breathing comes quicker, and Kaworu’s arm is warm against his stomach.

_Idiot. What kind of an idiot are you? This is stupid. He’ll wake up any second. What are you doing?_

Shinji’s right hand twitches, then slips underneath Kaworu’s arm, moving downwards.

_Pathetic. Disgusting. You’re getting off with Kaworu’s arm on your stomach. This is seventeen different kinds of fucked up._

He presses the flat of his palm against the heat of his erection, pressing down and not quite able to swallow the shaky moan that follows. Shinji feels like his nerves are on fire, and the heat within him expands and doubles, and he doesn’t know if it’s just him or because of the thrill of Kaworu curled next to him, the danger, the helpless excitement that he hates but embraces nonetheless. He feels like crying because he can’t control himself – he’s a coward through and through, but in the end, his desires trump everything, will lead him to hell and back, god _fuck_ the consequences.

He hates it.

His palm grinding against his pants is terribly wonderful, and waves of pleasure rock through him, spreading upwards in a whoosh of butterflies to his chest and downwards to a tingling in his toes. Shinji’s breathing is uneven, coming in ragged pants, at times the intake of his breath catching and keening instead. His lower body twitches occasionally, thrusting upwards remorselessly despite Shinji’s half-hearted attempts to control himself.

Without knowing it, his eyes had squeezed shut in his pleasure. He cracks them open now, his lips parted in imitation, and he glances over –

Kaworu’s eyes are open, and they shine lightly, even shrouded in the dark.

Shinji jerks, his hand fleeing away, his heart jumping out of his chest and his body jackknifing upwards. He stutters madly for a few disjointed seconds, pulse beating a wild tempo against his neck and breathing so quick that he feels lightheaded and dizzy all at once.

“Kaworu – I, I – I mean, I’m sorry, I didn’t – I don’t know what I was doing, I’m so sorry – “

Shinji’s words tumble out of his mouth head-over-heels, breathy in their articulation, jumbled and snarled before they even exit. Red, dark heat explodes over his cheeks, his ears, the back of his neck, and crawls down his back, and Shinji thinks that if lightning doesn’t strike him dead this second, then he’ll just do the deed himself to save himself the utter shame and disgust –

Kaworu cocks his head to the side and also sits up. His gaze seems to traverse Shinji’s whole body and Shinji shrinks in on himself, a gulf of revulsion opening up underneath him. He flinches back when Kaworu opens his mouth, expecting words of loathing, repulsion to spill forth.

“Shinji-kun, are you uncomfortable? Your breathing is laboured, and you appear anxious. Are you alright?”

Shinji’s jaw works uselessly for a good few seconds, and Kaworu takes advantage of this.

“I apologise, it is my fault, after all. I am sorry for startling you, Shinji-kun,” he says, and Shinji has to weld his teeth together to stop himself from letting out a gasp of incredulous, panicking laughter.

“Your – your fault? _I’m_ the one – the stupid one, I...” he trails off, unable to say it, unable to even think it without a wave of shame and despair engulfing him.

“No,” Kaworu says, and shifts alarmingly closer, one hand closing around his – his dirty, shameful hand – and the other dancing lightly atop his knee. “I was...curious, I think. I have never seen Lilim please themselves before. It is a personal experience, and I have intruded.”

His hand slowly wanders up Shinji’s knee, and Shinji is frozen, Kaworu’s words barely registering with him, only his points of contact like fire against the skin of his knuckles, the legs contained within his pants.

“Are you...are you _excited,_ Shinji-kun?” Kaworu whispers, and Shinji only just registers the light shade of red on Kaworu’s cheeks before the hand reaches upwards, closing around his clothed length, and grinding inwards.

Shinji arches upwards, a cry torn from his lips, and he collapses back onto the pallet as Kaworu rolls over and continues his ministrations, rubbing his palm through his pants, the friction sending jolts of electricity to his brain.

“Kaworu...Kaworu, stop...” Shinji whispers brokenly against the tide of pleasure, and to his relief – and disappointment – Kaworu stops, his hand ceasing its movement but still hotly pressed to Shinji’s groin.

“I _am_ sorry,” Kaworu murmurs, his eyes sad as they regard him. “I only meant to bring you happiness, and instead it appears I have made you even more uncomfortable.” He lets go of Shinji and retreats backwards, glancing upwards at the bed. “This is my fault.”

Shinji watches Kaworu stand and move towards the bed with something like despair gnawing at him, the feeling like a missed step on the way to the bottom. An ache runs through him, and, only half in control of his actions, he lunges out of the sheets, catching Kaworu around the waist and sending them both tumbling onto the bed in a sprawl of limbs.

He tries not to whimper as his still-hard length grinds into the inside of Kaworu’s upper thigh, and his fingers reflexively grip around Kaworu’s shoulders.

“No, it’s – it’s mine,” Shinji says, and closes his eyes and presses a fast kiss onto the back of Kaworu’s neck, flushing but pleased at the quiet noise Kaworu emits, something like contentment mixed with wonder.

He pushes himself up on his arms and Kaworu wriggles up and around, turning to face him while moving to a more comfortable position. Shinji’s face is a hot mess of embarrassment and arousal and _heat,_ but Kaworu looks almost perfectly composed, the illusion of the calm, gentle, curving smile only broken by the heat in his cheeks and the slight glazing of his eyes.

Shinji looks down, and... _oh._

He feels something rise within him, and it’s hard to pinpoint what it is – but Shinji thinks it might be his torrent of emotions for Kaworu, the blend of excitement and confusion and happiness that the other boy inspires in him, the scent of spring and summer flowers with the slight aroma of freshly baked bread – and Shinji knows he’s losing it with his strange imagination and metaphors, but when it comes down to it, there’s a wobbling sensation in his chest that feels like his heart swelling, and he thinks he might just be in love with this boy, with his mussed silver hair and red, blazing eyes, his pale skin, and a slight swell in loose pyjama pants.

Shinji swallows and sits upright on Kaworu’s legs, his own need temporarily forgotten, and with slightly shaking fingers he reaches down, tugging at the waistband –

Long, slim fingers close around his own and Shinji’s gaze flies up, startled.

Kaworu smiles at him, that damnable half-lidded sleepy smile. “I love you, Shinji-kun,” he murmurs, and Shinji feels the heat renewed, burning the back of his neck. His ears glow red.

“Really?” he whispers back, the second iteration of those exact words having the same effect that they did the first time. Shinji hesitates, then leans forward, pressing his lips clumsily against Kaworu’s, somewhat mortified at his inelegance, and at the same time too busy to care when Kaworu _hums_ against him, his arms flinging around Shinji and fingers burying in his hair.

It seems obscene, almost scandalous that they are only kissing now, with Kaworu’s pants slung down to his jutting hipbones, with Shinji hot, trapped against the fabric of his pants. It’s scandalous but Shinji guiltily enjoys it anyway, the sounds that Kaworu’s making vibrating across his lips.

They break apart, gasping for air, and Shinji only has time to note with satisfaction that Kaworu’s face is well and truly flushed before hands are tugging, pulling at his shirt. It’s over his head and cast to the floor almost before he registers it, and Shinji is left staring, wide eyed, shirtless, at the boy lying below him.

He’s spurred into action when Kaworu smiles up at him again, tugging down his pants successfully this time, embarrassed and slightly fascinated when he drags his fingers through a light tangle of silvery hair, down to – to Kaworu’s shaft, hot, fire against his skin, but when Kaworu jerks and exhales tightly, Shinji knows he’ll do anything – _anything –_ to get that reaction and more.

Shinji’s breath comes in sync with Kaworu’s as he strokes him, mouth slightly open as Kaworu shakes and moans underneath him, snippets of babble at times coming forth, nothing like the smooth, philosophical words that he’s used to.

“Shinji,” Kaworu gasps as Shinji increases the pace, hips thrusting into his strokes, and fingers now gripping the bed sheets, twining and curling and knuckles white. “I lo – _oh,_ I love you!”

With his other hand, Shinji digs into his own pants, groaning as he finally touches his trapped erection.

Kaworu’s already there, though, shaking hands pulling at his pants, shucking them to his knees. “Together,” he breathes roughly, and pulls him close.

Shinji lowers himself until they’re touching, watching Kaworu’s face melt into a pool of satisfaction, throwing his head back, mouth agape and eyes sealed shut. He pulls himself upward until he’s chest to chest, and then grinds down with his hips, twin, sharp exhales from both of them.

He moves, up and down, Kaworu pushing up from below, and almost screams as Kaworu’s fingers close around both of their erections and _moves,_ stroking and sliding until Shinji lets out an explosive gasp of air, muffling it against Kaworu’s collarbone. Kaworu’s twisting underneath him but all Shinji can feel is those long fingers wrapped around both of them, pumping up and down, the feel of Kaworu’s hard length against his own, and he’s seeing _stars_ with his eyes squeezed so tightly shut, and he’s moaning Kaworu’s name incoherently – and he _thinks_ Kaworu’s doing the same, but the hand never ceases moving and Shinji blearily wonders if it’s possibly to die of too much pleasure.

He arches back with a scream as he comes, and Kaworu follows only a second later, moaning something intelligible, all signs of a smile wiped from his lips, his feelings only expressed with the cant of his head, the arch of his eyebrows, and the gasping of his mouth, air gulped in great pants.

Shinji lies bonelessly atop Kaworu, the aftershocks of pleasure still sending miniature spasms through his body, compounding as they rub his length against Kaworu’s, against his fingers, more shocks flowing through him.

“Kaworu-kun,” he whispers against Kaworu’s chest, and threads their fingers together. “I love you.”

Kaworu shifts and Shinji slides to the side, onto the bed so that they’re lying facing together. His face is warm and relaxed, and Shinji almost forgets to be embarrassed about the state that they’re both in.

“I am glad to have brought some measure of happiness to you,” Kaworu whispers, and Shinji’s face contorts.

“Was it all about me?” he says, a sudden blow of coldness settling in his stomach. “Was that...was that all just for me?”

Kaworu pauses, then shakes his head slowly. His hair is caught in the linen, fuzzy static electricity pinning it to the mattress. “No...I think you have brought _me_ happiness too, Shinji-kun,” he says, and the world is warm again, and even if Shinji’s pants are pulled down to his knees, even if his shirt is gone, he nonetheless finds comfort moving closer to Kaworu’s side, slipping his arms around his waist, and sighing in contentment.

It’s early morning now, judging by the clock on the nightstand, and even if Shinji was meant to be asleep several hours ago, he’s happy that he’s awake right now, the threads of tiredness only just now beginning to seep into his body.

He thinks that he might be able to fall asleep after all, with Kaworu curled up against his body, a ball of heat between them, and the morning stretching out infinitely before them.                     


	2. 貞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time for some dumb karlshin smut
> 
> reminder that this is a fic in three parts, in which anime and manga have now been explored. the last chapter is rebuild kawoshin :3

Shinji didn’t expect Kaworu to enjoy watching television. Rather, actually, no; he isn’t surprised that Kaworu enjoys watching television, given his weird personality quirks, but he _is_ somewhat baffled at the _content_ of what he watches.

Take, for instance, now: Shinji is curled up and resting his head on a pillow, SDAT player firmly clutched in his hands, while Kaworu sits against the foot of the bed, mouth slightly agape as he focuses intently on the romantic comedy playing on-screen.

Not that Shinji’s watching him, anyway. He hastily flips back onto his back, trying to immerse himself into his music again. It’s weird that there’s a TV here, right in the middle of NERV, but it’s a crusty old one, dented and marred with something like mud, and Shinji can’t help  but picture Kaworu salvaging it from the broken down remains of _somewhere._ It’s glaringly out of place, and despite his best efforts, Shinji’s eyes are inextricably drawn to its pixellated little screen.

The couple inside the TV set are kissing, and Shinji shifts awkwardly and watches with a mixture of fascination and dread at Kaworu, whose eyes are wide and fixed on the screen but still seems completely solemn. He almost groans aloud when he realises he’s moved, _again,_ and he’s watching the weird pasty faced boy who somehow managed to con him into staying for the night – _again._

 _It’s_ his _fault that he’s attractive, right?_ Shinji thinks miserably, even the thought of those words roiling uncomfortably around his brain. _I don’t like him, after all. At all._

“Hey, are you bored?” he hears, and when he looks up Kaworu is standing and yawning, his arms stretched above his head. Shinji looks at the screen and it’s rolling credits, the show apparently over.

“No,” he says, even though he is, because he likes the mindlessness of lying around in bed with music playing in his ears and thoughts of NERV and Rei far away.

“Well, I am,” Kaworu says, smiling a smile so beatific that Shinji wants to punch it off his face, and drops onto the bed over him.

Shinji counts to three in the hope that Kaworu will get off him.

He doesn’t.

“Get off me,” Shinji tries, but Kaworu looks like he’s staring at something in the distance, his gaze focused just to the side of Shinji’s ear. He lowers, and Shinji instinctively raises his arms, hands not quite pushing at Kaworu’s chest.

“Isn’t this what you Lilim do?” Kaworu murmurs, and there’s a note of confusion in his voice – but Shinji doesn’t have time to consider that before Kaworu’s nose bumps against his and it’s _obvious_ what he’s trying to do –

Shinji shrieks and shoves at Kaworu’s chest, and the other boy is light enough that he fairly flies onto the other side of the bed, looking perplexed. He raises a shaking finger. “You...you just stay away from me!” Shinji not-quite shouts, and he just _knows_ that he’s gone red all over. “Don’t do that again!”

Kaworu ignores him and taps a finger against his chin. “It looked easy on the television,” he whines, and slumps into a little puddle on the bed, a hand rubbing at his chest. “Ow...”

Shinji _would_ feel guilty if it weren’t for the fact that it’s _Kaworu,_ and instead purposefully turns onto his shoulder so he doesn’t have to see damned red eyes and silver hair. He can still _hear_ childish complaining behind him, though, so he turns up the volume of his player instead.

Later that night, when Kaworu kisses him under the pretense of breathing air back into him, Shinji only tiredly pushes back, more annoyed than anything else, and more miffed than he has any right to be at the fact that his teeth hurt because _Kaworu can’t kiss for shit,_ and he has to wipe away somewhat peevishly at drool at the corner of his lips.

Then, he catches himself and is aggravated that he cares more about the peculiarities of the kiss rather than the fact that it _happened at all._

*

Shinji awakes with the almost-uncomfortable almost-pleasant sensation of heat in his lower body, and he’s almost alright with it before he remembers that there’s another person in bed with him.

He’s just about to tear the sheets off and jump out before realising that Kaworu’s still asleep, and any sudden movement might just wake him. Letting out a frustrated noise, Shinji slowly inches upwards until he’s sitting on the pillow, the sheets bunched up around his waist, and tries to think serious thoughts.

He thinks he might die when Kaworu stirs next to him, sleepily yawning and flinging his limbs in every direction. He rubs at his eyes and then blinks them open, staring up at Shinji curiously.

“Good morning, what are you doing?” Kaworu says, propping himself up onto one elbow.

Shinji grips the blankets around him tighter, peeved that the heat isn’t going away despite – _because?! –_ of the infuriating boy gazing up at him innocently. “Nothing!” he replies, and winces because it comes out high-pitched and slightly strangled.

Kaworu notices, and his eyes narrow. “Come on, Ikari, tell me if there’s something wrong,” he urges, and Shinji’s fingers twitch spasmodically because there definitely _is_ something wrong, and that something happens to be Kaworu’s face peering concernedly up at him.

His inattention costs him, though, and Kaworu gleefully tugs away the sheets while Shinji’s grip isn’t ironclad.

Shinji lets out an inelegant, high-pitched noise and leaps out of bed, spinning around so he’s pressed up against the edge, face buried in his hands, knowing that he’s making more of a fuss than he really should be – but it’s _Kaworu –_ and feeling even his scalp prickle in horrified mortification.

“Eh, what was that?” Kaworu says breezily, and Shinji feels the bed dip as he scoots closer – uncomfortably closer, he can feel, sense Kaworu only centimetres away from him. “Is that normal? Should I get a doctor?”

“No!” Shinji bursts out, incredulity winning over embarrassment. He raises his head and stares at Kaworu. “Haven’t you...haven’t you ever...?”

“Is that a ‘no’ to ‘is that normal’ or ‘should I get a doctor’?” Kaworu sits back and scratches at his head, and Shinji notices with relief that he’s not quite as aroused as he was before, but doubly as embarrassed, and he’s not sure if it’s overall a better exchange or not –

“I mean, it’s not as if _I’ve_ ever had this happen, so I guess you have more experience than me,” Kaworu continues cheerfully, and it’s all Shinji can do to _not_ to stare again – but _wait, why are they even talking about this?_ This whole sequence has that tint of bizarre to it – Shinji thinks it’s becoming a recurring thing while with Kaworu – and he can almost feel the walls shifting around him, and it’s almost like he’s looking at himself from far away.

“Hello? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Shinji jerks back as Kaworu waves a hand in front of his face, then knocks it aside irritably. “Perfectly normal,” he snarls, “it happens when you’re happy.”

He rockets to his feet and sprints away, grabbing his uniform on the way out.

He doesn’t hear Kaworu’s comment to himself as he leaves:

“But you didn’t _look_ happy, Ikari.”

*

Shinji avoids Kaworu like the plague for the whole day – he avoids everyone, actually, and it’s only at the end of the day when he realises that he needs to either return to Misato or Kaworu’s apartment that he gives up wandering shorelines and reluctantly returns to NERV. He hasn’t seen Misato since the day before and he’s perfectly happy with that, while Kaworu – he stops right there and refuses to think about it any longer.

Kaworu looks inanely happy when Shinji walks through the door, though, and after a peaceful day out Shinji just can’t quite bring himself to say anything rude, even if he’s tempted to after seeing the television merrily crackling away. It’s another rom-com, and Shinji’s starting to wonder where Kaworu gets them from.

While Shinji’s brushing his teeth, Kaworu hangs around in the doorframe, and he follows him into the bedroom when he’s done, irritatingly nonchalant with his hands linked around the back of his head.

“Hey, Ikari,” Kaworu says as Shinji lies face-down on the bed, buried in the pillow and his arms dangling by his sides. “Hey, I learned something new today.”

 _Good for you,_ Shinji thinks, and burrows deeper into the pillow.

“It’s about earlier today,” Kaworu continues, and Shinji pauses in trying to reach the other side of the world to freeze in horror. “You know,  Doctor Fuyutsuki and Doctor Akagi were more than happy to fill me in.”

 _Oh,_ God. _He brought them in on it too?_ Never mind, Shinji thinks that it’s probably a wise goal to dig a hole through Kaworu’s bed anyway.

Then, Kaworu is pushing, rolling him over before he can protest, and he sits squarely on Shinji’s hips. “Doctor Akagi told me that Lilim feel these urges, something called _seck-shoe-all_ urges – particularly Lilim of about our age –” Kaworu’s eyes are alight and his arm movements are animated, and Shinji feels the overwhelming urge to sock him in the mouth – “and it’s quite normal, so you don’t have to worry, but she said – and I was right, after all – that Lilim also quite enjoy kissing.”

Shinji’s jaw is slack in sympathy with the amount of shit spewing forth, so it hardly helps matters when Kaworu’s mouth collides with his again, quelling any rising protests.

All he knows is that Kaworu’s definitely had too much time on his hands – he’s watched too much stupid TV to know what’s wrong and right, and furthermore, he hasn’t the _foggiest_ of what he’s doing because saliva is dripping down Shinji’s cheek and he’s wondering if Kaworu even _knows_ what constitutes a kiss.

Since his mouth can’t formulate a sarcastic – or scathing – comment, Shinji instead curls a fist and punches Kaworu in the cheek. It feels therapeutic to his somewhat muddled brain.

“Ouch,” Kaworu says, still sitting on top of him, and raises a hand to gingerly touch abused skin. “What was that for?” From the corner of his mouth, he adds: “You really aren’t like normal Lilim.”

“What was that?!” Shinji springs upwards, outraged even if he doesn’t know what a ‘Lilim’ is. “How about you figure out what the hell you want to do before doing it?!”

“Huh?”

Shinji pushes Kaworu – and it’s not a huge feat, to be honest – until he topples over the other way, his fingers splayed against the other boy’s chest. He’s not sure what he’s doing, but he thinks it’s something along the lines of teaching Kaworu a lesson – so he leans forward and tilts his head, pressing their – dry! – lips together firmly. His hands shift forward until his elbows are cradled around Kaworu’s head.

Shinji doesn’t forget to breathe and his fingers move, lying coolly against the heat of the purplish bruising that’s starting to raise on Kaworu’s cheekbone. Kaworu shifts under him, and Shinji obligingly rises, opening eyes that he didn’t know had closed.

“ _That’s_ how you kiss,” he says with an air of finality, even though he’s never intentionally kissed anyone in his entire life.

Kaworu only looks up at him dazedly, as if shocked that Shinji actually reciprocated.

Then, he tries to reach upwards for another kiss, only to get knocked back down firmly.

“Come on, Ikari, I just want to make you happy,” Kaworu complains, and Shinji’s brow puckers.

“Happy?” he repeats. “Why would you want to make me happy?” _And you’re not doing a particularly good job of it anyway,_ Shinji gripes.

Kaworu’s eyes are wide. “Because then you’ll be my friend. Right?”

Shinji feels like he’s just been punched through a wall – and he’s had that experience several times in Unit-01 – and he stares at Kaworu as if he’s grown a pair of wings. There are things he wants to say – a lot of things, but only a few words escape through his mouth. “You have a weird way of making friends.”

“Well, it’s not really a _way,_ ” Kaworu says, “since you don’t like me. Not yet, at least.”

Shinji doesn’t know why Kaworu wants to be his friend, he sure as hell wouldn’t want to be his _own_ friend – but _he_ does, and it’s a comfort despite the knowledge that it’s a pale skinned, red eyed, annoying fluffy-haired boy who seems to think that being a ‘friend’ equates to clumsy kissing well into the evening.

It’s endearing, sort-of.

Shinji lowers himself back down and kisses Kaworu again, tangling his hands in the aforementioned fluffy hair, spurred on by the slight noises that the other boy is making.

“Ikari-kun...” Kaworu breathes as Shinji comes up for air.

“Shut up, Nagisa,” Shinji replies, and traces Kaworu’s jaw line with his lips, eliciting a sharp inhale. “This is me saying sorry...at least, for punching you.”

“I...Ikari!” Kaworu’s eyes are closed and his lips are parted. He makes an aborted movement with his hands as Shinji dips lower, pressing kisses onto his throat. “Is – is this what happiness is meant to...to feel like?”

Shinji hesitates as he reaches Kaworu’s undershirt, the past few minutes finally catching up to him. It’s strange...the fury that he’s been holding against Kaworu has drained away and beats dully somewhere in the far distance. The most irritation he can bring up now is the vague exasperation of Kaworu’s constant strange chatter, the weird things that he says that makes absolutely no sense to him.

He shifts a little atop Kaworu, and freezes.

Kaworu stiffens underneath him. _Is it...?_ Shinji moves slightly again, and there it is again – the small hiss of breath, the hardness that he brushes against as he moves backwards.

_Is this what happiness is meant to feel like?_

_Perfectly normal...when you’re happy._

Shinji is torn between crying with laughter at the way Kaworu’s misconstrued his angry outburst, and somehow, inordinately pleased that he’s the only one who’s managed to _make_ him aroused.

_Don’t think that don’t think that it’s weird –_

Shinji opts for in-between, snorting back a laugh while moving again, crawling off Kaworu so that he’s sitting in between his legs. Aware that he’s now beginning to navigate uncharted territory, he slips his hands into Kaworu’s shirt and pushes upwards, the shirt dragging up to his chest while his fingers ghost along Kaworu’s skin.

Kaworu swallows.

Shinji allows his fingers to wander carelessly around Kaworu’s chest and stomach, heat starting to pool in his lower regions. Below, Kaworu shivers but stays put, and Shinji can see his pulse beating a quick tempo against his neck. His own heart rate is speeding up, blood flooding to his cheeks and ears, and down to...

He slides his hands down Kaworu’s stomach, past his hips, and then undoes his pants, tugging them down. Kaworu sucks in another breath and Shinji looks up, startled, his confidence starting to ebb away.

“Do you, uh...do you want to go any further?” he stutters out shakily, and his hands feel like awkward, heavy lead bunched around Kaworu’s pants.    

“Only if it makes you happy,” Kaworu answers, and his steady voice is at odds with his flushed face and fast breathing. “I... _I’m_ happy,” he breathes, and his fingers twine around the bedding beneath them. “Ikari-kun, I’m _very_ happy...”

Shinji swallows down the rush of feelings that those words inspire within him, and instead busies himself with tugging Kaworu’s pants off him. “I don’t think you know how to use that word properly,” he mutters, and wraps his hand around Kaworu’s erection.

“Ah!”

Kaworu moans as Shinji starts to move up and down, arching upwards and flinging his head backwards. “Ikari-kun, I – _ah! –_ I didn’t know Lilim could do this –”

Annoyed, Shinji surges forward and crashes his lips against Kaworu’s, cutting away his words while his hand still pumps up and down. His mouth opens, and then there’s _drool,_ and it’s wet and messy but Shinji barely notices against the feel of his erection tight against his pants, Kaworu’s hard in his hand, Kaworu’s body – shirt bunched up against his chest, pants gone – pressing up against his own.

Shinji lets go of Kaworu for just a second to shuck off his own pants, and while Kaworu’s moaning in frustration he’s _still_ babbling on – “This is truly the height of Lilim evolution, for such feelings to exist –”

Shinji’s running out of things to do to keep Kaworu shut up, and he’s hardly in a position to _think,_ especially as he wraps a hand around himself, fairly whimpering.

Kaworu’s eyes snap open, and for a second he just stares at Shinji, mouth slack, eyes wide. Then, he’s galvanised into action – “Oh, Ikari, I’ll do that, I’ll make you happy,” he starts, but Shinji pushes him back down, determined to finish what he started.

Kaworu jerks underneath him as Shinji lowers his head, taking him into his mouth, hot and hard and thrillingly new. He moves around, experimentally, rewarded when Kaworu groans and thrusts up with his hips. Then, with more daring than he’s ever felt before, Shinji slides a hand up Kaworu’s thigh and moves down, slipping between his cheeks and resting a thumb against his entrance, rubbing slowly, gently.

Kaworu moans and twists under him, and Shinji presses, both afraid and amazed at his own boldness. He bobs his head up and down and wraps his other hand around the base while switching to a finger, caressing lightly at Kaworu’s entrance before pushing in a little.

Shinji’s own need is forgotten as he swirls a tongue around Kaworu’s erection, the other boy’s breathy moans more than enough to spur him onwards, his finger sliding in and out, making Kaworu cry out every time the middle joint passes through the tight ring of muscle.

The heat inside Kaworu is blazingly hot, travelling into Shinji’s finger and spreading through his body.

“Ikari, I –” Kaworu starts saying, but before he can continue Shinji’s finger hits _something,_ and Kaworu breaks off what he’s about to say to scream and convulse on the bed, and at the same time he explodes in Shinji’s mouth, hot and sticky and not completely unpleasant-but-weird.

Kaworu’s voice is raw as he cries Shinji’s name, hips bucking up and shaking for what feels like an eternity. His voice trails off, spent, but his mouth still gapes open, sucking in air, chest expanding and snapping back with every gasp.

It’s only when Kaworu lets out a low moan and lies still that Shinji stops sucking, stops the movement of his fingers designed to keep the other boy screaming in ecstasy. He withdraws, wiping at his lips, blushing at the sight of Kaworu lying breathless and sated beneath him, blushing at the taste in his mouth, and blushing at his own audacity. All for an annoying fluffy-haired boy.

A full minute passes before Kaworu regains enough of his senses – Shinji would argue that he didn’t have any to begin with – to crack open his eyes and look around, and he simply lies there, breathing quietly. “Doctor Akagi didn’t say you could do _that,_ ” he says admiringly, and Shinji flushes, _again,_ at his forwardness.

Then, he rockets upwards, a hand clapping, distressed, to his mouth. “Wait! Ikari! You didn’t – I didn’t make _you_ happy, I -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shinji says, weakly, still mulling over the fact that he – he – he can’t even say it, and he doesn’t have time to think further about it because Kaworu’s all over him again, pushing him firmly into the sheets, a hand descending onto his shaft and quickly joined by a mouth, wet and warm and _sucking,_ and Shinji doesn’t know what he’s saying but he’s _sure_ it’s something stupid, probably as stupid as Kaworu is, and then he almost blacks out as Kaworu starts moving, the hard muscle of his tongue wrapping around him and sending jolts of pleasure through his body.

It’s embarrassingly quick, but Shinji doesn’t have time to think of it that way as he comes, arching upwards with a cry before collapsing down again, spent, his body twitching in the after-shocks. Kaworu bends over him, looking concerned, and he doesn’t have the strength to push his face away.

“Was that alright?” Kaworu breathes, his face still shining with a high flush. Shinji accepts his inability to move with coordination and instead sighs, nodding his head mutely. Kaworu’s face breaks out into a huge smile and he flops down next to him, clasping their hands together.

“So...do you like me now?” he speaks again after a moment of quiet, and Shinji tiredly rolls his eyes.

“No,” he says, even though he does, because he enjoys the twitch of Kaworu’s body against his, the slightly upset expression before he rolls over and cuts off anything he’s about to say.

“Of course I do, you idiot,” Shinji says, and curls up against Kaworu’s warm body. “But if you say something like that again I’ll bust your teeth out.”

So Kaworu shuts up and they spend the rest of the night like that, only moving when the cold becomes too much for their bare backsides and they move into the blankets.  

 

 

 

      

    

    

     


	3. Q

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...this chapter turned out longer than expected, and a tad more angsty than...expected...
> 
> this is becoming a habit.

After Kaworu shows him the outside world, Shinji thinks nothing can be happy ever again.

There’s a sick feeling in his heart that’s on slow burn, rising up in his throat every time he dares to take a breath, and the cool metal around his neck sighs and expands with every swallow, thrums with every choked off little noise.

His fingers flex and his jaw moves soundlessly, and he thinks back to a piano, a little haven in a blood-red dead world, he thinks back to bright stars overhead in the night, and thinks, _was it all pointless?_

It’s just hiding away, Shinji realises, and it’s what he’s best at, and it’s what he wants to do, even surrounded by memories of dead friends, even living in a hell everyone says he created – _did he create it?_

He’s selfish, he’s a coward, he knows it. He’s angry that he can’t flee to a place with no fear and hurt, he’s angry that his haven – Nagisa and his – will be intruded on by painful thoughts, and he’s angry that _that’s_ the only thing he can think of. That only selfish thoughts run through his head.

Shinji lies on his back staring up at the ceiling, his SDAT clenched between white-knuckled fingers, and when the door slides open and silver, ruffled hair appears, he slides his eyelids shut and pretends to be asleep.

“Ikari Shinji-kun?” he hears, and that soft, lilting voice is gentler than he deserves, and warmer than his wildest dreams. Shinji has never failed to react to that voice, and he doesn’t fail now; a barely-there twitch, almost imperceptible to one not watching closely.

He knows Kaworu is watching closely. The thought sends a measure of heat thrilling through his veins.

“Come and play the piano with me,” Kaworu says, and he’s right there – right at the bed, one hand outstretched. Shinji rolls over and takes it, because he doesn’t know what else to do, and feels every notch in his finger joints, passes his thumb over Kaworu’s knuckles, and finally allows himself to be pulled up, his own sick heat assuaged by the coolness of the other boy’s palm.

*

He was wrong.

Kaworu is not cool, he is humming with heat, and where the line of Shinji’s back joins with Kaworu’s chest he feels warm – not the sticky, clammy burning of before, but a dry flame, licking through the thin fabric of his shirt and spreading tentatively through his body.

Shinji holds back embarrassing gasps behind tightly pressed lips as Kaworu takes a hold of his wrists on the piano and gently presses down on the fingers, correcting his position. He’s saying something, too, something about switching to the fourth finger after the D, but the words wander aimlessly past Shinji’s head, and he gazes with half-lidded eyes at their hands, snow-white and tan, entwined over the keyboard.

 _Your fingers are really good for piano,_ Shinji thinks, in admiration of the other boy’s graceful, long fingers, and it’s not until Kaworu falls silent behind him that Shinji realises that he’s voiced his thoughts aloud.

“Ikari-kun?” Kaworu says, wonderingly, and Shinji cringes.

“I’m – I’m sorry!” he splutters out, fumbling. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I _do_ want to learn, it’s just...”

Shinji trails off, not sure where he even intended his words to go – but he only has to live with one, two seconds of red-faced shame before Kaworu slips one arm under the crook of his elbow, leans in close, and sits down next to him.

“Nagisa-kun, what –“

“I’m afraid I have to disagree,” Kaworu cuts him off smoothly, charmingly, curling his fingers around Shinji’s and turning his palm over. The absence of heat at his back has replaced by the spreading of warmth in his hands, and Shinji swallows, at the gentleness of the touch and the proximity of another person.

“I think it is a misconception that long fingers are well suited to playing the piano,” Kaworu muses, unaware of Shinji gulping as his thumb absentmindedly traces circles on his palm. “For instance, I believe that it is a larger palm, not longer fingers, that allow for a stronger performance.”

He lets go of Shinji’s hand and turns his own over for comparison, his fingers splayed out. “I believe it is _your_ fingers that are better for playing piano,” Kaworu says, and turns to smile directly at him.

Shinji looks down. His own palms radiate heat and look positively brown compared to Kaworu’s. The fingers are shorter, stubbier, a little thicker than Kaworu’s graceful digits, like...like a mud crab compared to a delicate spider. He finds it more than a little hard to believe that he could _possibly_ be better than the other boy at anything, _most definitely not at piano,_ and the disbelief must show on his face, because in the next second Kaworu is leaning closer still, so close that Shinji can see his pale eyelashes, almost _feel_ them.

“Your heart is fragile, but your fingers are strong, Ikari-kun,” Kaworu breathes, and his breath tickles against Shinji’s skin. He feels hot, but it’s the kind of heat that rushes to his face, self-conscious and shy.

“Call...call me Shinji,” Shinji says, and tears his eyes away from the other boy. He’s so close that he could...

Kaworu slides forward that tiny little inch more and brushes his lips against Shinji’s, the lightest, softest touch he’s ever felt, and Shinji jerks and pulls apart, eyes wide.

“Nagisa, what –“

“Only if you call me Kaworu,” Kaworu replies.

Shinji shrinks, pulling his shoulders closer. He’s suddenly struck by how strange this all is; how, despite everything he’s done, everything he is, there is one person who is yet to fling him away in disgust and horror and hate, ignore or slap or yell at him.

There’s one person who sits by him at a piano, a solemn smile touching the corners of his face as he guides Shinji’s fingers around the keys.

And Shinji’s too scared to ask _why,_ too scared because maybe Kaworu will go away if he does, so he shakes instead, gripping the corners of the piano stool, squeezing his eyes shut to make the burning go away and hoping, hoping that Kaworu will (not) see.

His eyelids can’t contain the overflow of tears. They fall, dripping and disappearing into the black fabric of his trousers, they slide in a slow curve around his cheek to his chin, they slide into the corner of his lips, and when Shinji gasps for breath he tastes salt water, cold and wet and sour.

“Shinji-kun!”

Shinji doesn’t dare to look, _can’t_ look – it’s _embarrassing –_ and he’s still trying to pretend that he’s not crying even if he is, even if Kaworu’s staring –

“Shinji, look at me.”

Kaworu shifts on the piano stool, his arms reaching out again to clasp around Shinji’s waist more securely, and Shinji’s bones lose their strength. He falls, his face in Kaworu’s chest, his arms lying loosely and uselessly, and he _can’t look him in the eye_ so he settles for his skin. A warm, constant pulse echoes against his cheek.

With the effort of a dying man reaching for the light, Shinji clutches at Kaworu’s shirt, sinking his fingers deep. “It’s true, isn’t it?” he whispers, the words catching in his throat and cracking and almost too soft to be heard. “It’s my fault...isn’t it? All – all my fault...”

Kaworu is quiet, and Shinji clenches his fists harder, presses his face closer, and feels the wetness soaking into Kaworu’s shirt, sticking to his skin. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps, uneven and ragged.

“Shinji, _please_ ,” Kaworu says, and rolls his body forwards, slowly pushing him back. “Listen to me.”

When Shinji is almost upright again, Kaworu cups his cheeks between his hands, thumbs stroking away the tears. He kisses him again, on the forehead, and then draws back.

“Shinji, the past cannot be erased,” Kaworu murmurs softly, diving in between words, pressing dry lips over damp cheeks, soothing. “What is left is to look to the future. To see strength after strength arise from a broken heart. Shinji-kun, don’t lose hope for a brighter tomorrow, for Lilim cannot feel pain in their hearts without first knowing love.”

Kaworu brushes sweaty strands of hair away from Shinji’s face. “This is not the future you wished for...but it is a future you... _we_ can change.”

Shinji finally, finally looks up, and there is Kaworu, silver hair bright in the afternoon sun, his red eyes soft with emotion, his mouth creased in worry. Shinji’s own tears have dried, partly due to wonder overcoming soul crushing guilt and fear, partly because of Kaworu’s soft touches. Dark blue meets warm red and he flushes suddenly, a hand making an abortive motion to cover his mouth, and looks away. His breathing is still somewhat erratic, no matter how hard he tries to control it.

“Sorry,” Shinji says finally, not really sure what he’s apologising for – it’s an amalgamation of many different things, he thinks. “Sorry. I...I’m sorry.”

 Kaworu smiles, and nudges him, and turns back to the piano. “No need to apologise, Shinji-kun,” he replies, and at last Shinji feels a sort of light entering his heart, freeing his chest and clearing his lungs.

Red enters his cheeks, though, as a consequence, and Shinji reaches up to faintly touch his face. “Kaworu,” he says slowly. “What was...what was _that..._ ” He waves his hands around helplessly, flustered, the blush now spreading down the back of his neck and making parts of him tingle in nervous mortification.

“Just a hint, Shinji-kun,” Kaworu hums, eyes closed, and plays something, fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys. His head tilts towards Shinji, and an eye opens by just a crack. “One that you may return at any time. If that is what you wish, that is.” The eye closes again.

Shinji blushes harder.

For the next few minutes, he watches Kaworu play, the tinkling of notes in the higher register almost therapeutical, comforting and peaceful against the backdrop of his heart stuttering along, beating nervously in the presence of another – _warm_ – person. His eyes are scratchy and sore, and Shinji’s sure his face looks like a blotchy mess, but for now, he doesn’t mind, because there are more pressing things to think about –

Shinji’s hands are loosely curled in his lap, and he looks slowly between them and Kaworu with his serene expression, eyebrows arched and eyelashes fluttering just ever so slightly.

 _Just a hint,_ he whispers to himself, and, mustering his courage, turns to Kaworu, leaning up and closer, nose colliding awkwardly with his cheek before his lips follow, and Shinji thinks that this is the poorest excuse of a kiss that he’s ever seen, and he’s ready to just pull back –

Kaworu’s eyes snap open and his hands jump on the piano, and Shinji’s not a pianist but he’s a musician and he can _definitely_ tell that note wasn’t intended, but he’s never heard Kaworu slip before so it’s a novelty – and even though he’s embarrassed as _hell_ and completely red he’s congratulating himself for the effect he’s had.

But when Kaworu turns, Shinji forgets about feeling accomplished, forgets about congratulating himself, because Kaworu is _red,_ he, too, has heat brushed across his cheeks, high spots of colour on an otherwise pale face. His eyes are wide and his mouth slightly parted, and before Shinji’s eyes he takes a breath, tiny and with the slightest tremor just before the inhale.

“Shinji?” Kaworu says, very faintly, the red just slightly receding yet still prominent over the bridge of his nose.

_Just a hint..._

Shinji manages to gather himself together enough to offer a smile, pathetic enough together with the remnants of puffy eyes, but still no less sincere for the effort.

“It’s just a hint, Kaworu-kun,” he murmurs.

Kaworu grasps Shinji’s arms and pulls him to his feet, the stool scraping across the chipped tiles as it is shoved away. “One that I can return?” he whispers, and heat from where he is gripping Shinji is traversing all along his arms, up his biceps, through his body, down, down – he feels hot now, heady with feeling.

He nods, yes, and Kaworu surges forward, his lips soft and pliant and warm and hard all at once, pressing languorously at Shinji’s mouth, and when he opens it in an involuntary breath Kaworu’s _there,_ inside, hot and wet and Shinji fumbles backwards with his hands, the heels of his palms colliding with the piano keys with a discordant thump, and he almost breaks away with a startled yelp.

Kaworu’s there, though, clasping his hands around Shinji’s hips and lifting him onto the keys. He really _does_ let out that startled yelp as more sounds drift out from under the lid of the piano, the keys giving away beneath him. He cringes as the piano makes new sounds with every shift of movement, but Kaworu merely laughs and hooks his hands around Shinji’s legs, easing the pressure.

Then, he leans back down again, the soft touch of his lips on Shinji’s, and he might be imagining it but there’s a slight edge of timidity about it, like Kaworu’s suddenly afraid – no, how could that possibly be true if it was Kaworu – ?

He’s not imagining it. Kaworu’s hands pressed against the underside of Shinji’s legs are _trembling,_ and it’s minute but it’s there. He’s not sure why, or how, but Kaworu’s the closest to nervous he’s ever seen him, and a terrifying ache rises from his chest, momentarily taking his breath away.

Shinji moves his knees apart and locks his legs around Kaworu’s waist, as tightly as he dares, and throws his arms around his shoulders. Kaworu lets out a startled gasp and Shinji arches up, kissing his throat, the underside of his jaw, making his way upwards again. He’s clutching onto a warm inferno of emotion and heat with his four limbs, and the feeling of tight muscle across Kaworu’s shoulders, human skin through black material sends sparks of white-hot shivers through his body.

“Shinji, I – _ah –_ “ Kaworu’s voice is muffled as he buries himself against Shinji’s shoulder, locking himself as close as possible. “Shinji...”

Shinji squeezes his legs just that little bit tighter, pulling Kaworu in just that little closer, and suddenly becomes aware of a very different heat pressing against his groin as Kaworu’s hips meld against his body. His breath is a quick, sharp inhale as he realises that Kaworu is _hard,_ and he’s pressing against Shinji’s body, his thick tangle of hair on his head hiding his face as he squirms further into his shoulder.

He lets out a shuddery, shaking breath, steels himself, then experimentally pushes upwards, rubbing against Kaworu, relieving the hardness that is beginning, too, to form in his pants. A choked off moan spills pasts his lips before he can stop himself, but it’s nothing compared to the _whimper_ that escapes Kaworu’s mouth, a tiny little noise from the back of his throat that peeks out into the world.

Still holding on tightly, Kaworu raises his head, slightly cross-eyed and a high flush on his cheeks, colour spilling onto a previously pale canvas. Somewhat delirious from the sensation of rubbing against Kaworu, Shinji decides that he rather prefers him like this, his perfect composure torn asunder, his eyes wide and unfocused, his chest moving quickly, in time with the soft sounds that emerge from his mouth.

 _Who’s more fragile?_ Shinji thinks, before diving right back to Kaworu’s mouth, his shyness falling away. _Kaworu_ also feels like this. _Kaworu_ wants him. Wants _him._     

Determined not to start crying again, lest Kaworu becomes concerned, Shinji thrusts upwards, grinding together with Kaworu with the backdrop of the piano’s _plip-plop_ with every movement of his hips. Kaworu starts moaning in honest, and Shinji’s groans in response are no less vigorous despite his efforts to contain them. His body is a hot mess of pleasure and love and mindless euphoria, and he doesn’t mind one bit. He feels Kaworu speed up, their rhythm becoming a frantic thrusting and grinding against each other that’s less of a rhythm and more of a thrashing current, swirling and gyrating and sending endless waves of pleasure to Shinji’s brain.

As he nears his breaking point, Shinji cards his fingers through Kaworu’s hair, shaking with the effort yet managing not to pull at it through all the sensations that he’s feeling. His hair is soft and light and ticklish, yet sweaty at the roots, perspiration beading at his temples and shining lightly on his brow.

“Kaworu – !” Shinji gasps, as the friction between their trapped erections becomes too much. He pitches upwards, crying out incoherently as the heat inside him explodes outwards. Kaworu follows only a second later, jerking uncontrollably and gasping for air as he releases, collapsing on top of Shinji in a trembling mass of long loose limbs.

Wetness presses between them, but Shinji ignores this to lean back against the smooth black of the piano, bringing Kaworu with him, his eyes sliding shut in sated exhaustion. His legs are still entwined around Kaworu’s back, but he hasn’t the strength nor the motivation to remove them, and so he hangs there, quietly boneless save for his rapid breathing. Kaworu’s sharp ribcage nudges at his own chest with every quick intake of breath, and Shinji guiltily revels at the feeling of someone laying so close, close enough that their heartbeats almost align through the thin fabric of their shirts.

It is only after his fluttering heart has settled that Shinji speaks, and he regrets not doing so earlier because it’s _now_ that he feels all the more awkward.

“Kaworu-kun?” he whispers, and Kaworu raises his head from its languid doze against Shinji’s chest. “What was...what was that for...?”

“If the mind cannot accept a rightful joy, then perhaps it is the body’s duty to do so,” Kaworu offers, and snuggles in closer. “You are worthy of love, Ikari Shinji-kun. I love you.”

Instantly, Shinji’s face is painted a darker red than when he had been thrusting against Kaworu, the words settling heavily – not a _bad_ heavily, but still weighted – in his stomach.

“You – you do?” he says, and immediately wishes he could take back the high pitched crack of his voice as he stutters, flustered and flattered and heartwarmed.

Kaworu smiles and finally pushes up, straightening and seemingly unbothered by the dampness through his underwear. Shinji, too, rises, unhooking his legs and sliding off the piano, casting a guilt-ridden look backwards as it lets out one last plaintive cry. He winces as his pants pull back against his groin, feeling somewhat dirty and sticky, yet does his best to appear as unaffected as Kaworu does.

“Shall we find a new change of clothes?” Kaworu inquires, as if he’s talking about the weather, but the tiniest of sly smiles in the corner of his mouth tells Shinji a different story.

Shinji fights down a rising sense of disappointment of finally parting ways for the day, and nods mutely, looking down. He follows as Kaworu turns to leave, somehow managing to lag behind, yet still appear in step with the other boy.

When they reach the fork that signals the parting of their ways – a long, painful time in coming, with Shinji acutely aware of each uncomfortable step – he looks up, paints a smile, and inches towards the right –

– only for his hand to be snatched, and tugged back towards the left, Kaworu’s fingers loosely curled around his and a bright, open smile playing across his lips.

“Where are you going, Shinji? My room is this way.”

Shinji blinks. “Your – _your_ room? Why – ?”

Kaworu continues to tug him along, the wetness in his pants forgotten for now, humming a quiet tune under his breath. They come to another juncture, and Kaworu beams at him.

“Well, I have extra clothes that you can borrow,” he says. “My pants may be a bit long for you, but they can easily be rolled upwards to fit for now. After all, it is only for the time being.”

They come to a stop in front of a door similar to Shinji’s. Kaworu palms it open, gesturing for him to enter, and then follows suit. “Besides,” he continues, moving over to the clothes mechanism. “I thought you might like to enjoy the stars with me again tonight. We could bring blankets, and pillows, to keep out the cold, and build...what is it that Lilim call it...? Cubbyhouses. We could build cubbyhouses.”

Shinji’s face transforms between a varying set of expressions, finally settling for a weak laugh with his brow puckered in the worst state of confusion. “You can’t build cubbyhouses out of pillows and blankets,” is the only thing he manages as Kaworu pulls out two sets of black trousers and underwear.

Kaworu pauses, pants in hand, a sort of crestfallen air about him, but soon recovers himself, pressing one set of clothes into Shinji’s arms. “Well, that, too, is fine,” he says, quite cheerfully, as he unbuckles his belt. “Staying with you, Shinji-kun, is more than enough for me. The blankets can be used for warmth, as I previously suggested.”

Shinji turns away as soon as Kaworu’s hands hook through his belt, red burning at his cheeks and ears. He peeks over his shoulder after a moment to make sure Kaworu isn’t looking, then gingerly peels away his own trousers and leaves them in a pile on the floor.

“I’d...um...I’d like that,” he murmurs after he’s done changing, wondering how Kaworu still looks so sure while averting his own shy gaze, his blush still creeping down his neck. Privately, though, he wonders if it’s an act, if Kaworu is _really_ like what he was...before, when they were at the piano. Shinji’s almost dizzy with the heat that’s still passing through him.

He doesn’t think he minds the feeling overmuch.

*

After dinner – served in Kaworu’s room – they strip Kaworu’s bed of its sheets and pillows, then make the journey to Shinji’s room to do the same. It’s not hard work, and they have fun doing it, bunching the blankets up and occasionally tripping over the ends of them, helping each other up and continuing on their way. They’re now resting, a few metres away from the piano, swaddled in blankets and looking out of their cocoon to the evening sky, with the stars only just becoming visible to the naked eye.

Kaworu is snuggled up by Shinji’s side, his arms wrapped around his torso and hands encircling his, and the two listen to the quiet inhale and exhale of each other’s breaths as their vision soars to the heavens. It’s quiet – Shinji doesn’t feel the need to make small talk, and perhaps it’s audacious, but he believes Kaworu understands and accepts his reticence to speak – but it’s a soft kind of silence, one of companionship and empathy and the lack of conversation doesn’t come from a lack of connection but rather the opposite.

Shinji is still hot, and Kaworu’s skin is a spark of fire against his. Within the blankets, he doesn’t even feel the cold of the tiles beneath them, only the feel of soft sheets against his skin, and Kaworu’s chest pressed against his shoulders and side, expanding in time with his deep, even breaths.

He breaks his gaze with the stars above for a minute to look down, nuzzling Kaworu’s fluffy hair out of the way to instead stare at a neat pile of pyjamas sitting innocently off to the side; Shinji’s patterned, Kaworu’s striped.

He had grabbed them before they left for the wide open room with the piano, and when Kaworu asked, he had merely flushed and said: “What if our clothes get dirty again?”

*

From where Kaworu stands, he looks at things from a certain perspective.

Kaworu knows that there’s only a limited amount of time that he is blessed with in every life he lives, and so, every time, without fail, he dedicates every moment he can to bringing Shinji happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omake: they actually get the sheets dirty instead of their clothes and end up having to awkwardly explain the situation to Fuyutsuki (they obviously don't have a janitor in 3.33.)
> 
> aaand it's done! it's over! thank you for reading, everyone!


End file.
